A Kiss With A Fist
by antisocialgod
Summary: Santana Lopez was pissed.  Takes place after their fight on episode 2x01 - Audition


**Rating:** NC17  
**Pairings:** Quinn/Santana  
**Length:** 2,141  
**Spoilers:** 2x01 - Audition  
**Summary: **Santana Lopez was _pissed_.  
**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize is not mine.  
**Author's note: ** This is unbeta-d. So all the mistakes - and I'm sure there are plenty - are mine. English is still not my first language. Feel free to point them if you want so I can correct it! :)

* * *

Santana Lopez was pissed.

No, scratch that. She was pissed everyday, it was just her usual behavior. But as she tightened her pony and pushed her way through the mass of students that had gathered in the hallway, she was _fuming_. It would really be something if she managed to go the entire day without killing someone because murderous didn't even begin to cover what she was feeling at the moment. No one had ever made her feel like that. Yeah, sure, people got under her skin. They were stupid and it wasn't really her fault that she couldn't deal with them. Really, whoever had said that violence wasn't the answer had been clearly mistaken in her opinion because – and she wasn't really afraid to admit that – violence was the only language Santana Lopez spoke.

And damn did she speak it well.

But now not even violence could help her. No, because it was that what had gotten her so extremely angry in the first place. Or, well, what had fueled it even more. She was already angry when she left Coach Sylvester's office but seeing the red of _someone_'s skirt swishing in the hallway had been way too much for her to handle. How dared she? Sure, they lived to screw up each other. It was their thing. Quinn wanted something, Santana would go and get it. And then Quinn would get even because that's what they did. And it was fun. Hell, it was one of the reasons why they were best friends.

But little Quinn Fabray had gone too far.

It wasn't like she gave a crap about the position as Head-Cheerio. Most of the girls in that squad were stupid and she just wanted to smack them over the head so maybe they would perform a double flip right. So no, she didn't actually like being on the top of the pyramid. Hell, the fall was worse from the top. But at the same time she liked the fact that she could rule McKinley and make people fear her with only a small glare. Not that she couldn't do that anyway, but the title was nice though the job wasn't really her thing. But she cared about her best friend and she would gladly step down to have Quinn take her place but _damn_ that had been a low blow._ 'Motherfucking bitch!'_ was all that was running through Santana's head as she saw her best friend walking down the hallways in all of her top dog glory.

Oh hell no.

And then Santana Lopez spoke. But yet Quinn somehow got the last word, humiliating her in yet another way and Santana really wasn't about to let that go. Not this time, not when Quinn was actually using her position to step on her. Yeah, she knew that the other girl had been walking with a damn stick far up in her ass ever since Hudson and Berry had started going out but what the fuck did that have to do with Santana? Quinn had screwed up, and it wasn't her fault that she couldn't keep her girlfriend. Damn, Santana had even considered being nice and scaring Berry into re-thinking her decision but she couldn't really blame the girl for walking away. Hot as Quinn was, she could be incredibly annoying at times – worse than Berry herself, but Santana would never admit that out loud. There was only so low one could sink and she wasn't about to sink any lower. She just had the fact that she'd gotten a boob job screamed to the entire school; it was enough for now.

But damn was Quinn going to pay.

Santana was patient, contrary to popular belief. She was an experienced hunter and she knew just the time to strike so that her prey wouldn't have a chance. So she waited until the day was over and the girls left Cheerios practice before she could have her revenge. And it was going to be sweet because if there was one thing Santana liked more than hitting people, it was getting even.

Brittany had disappeared in the middle of their practice and they were all wise enough to know that it was pointless to look for her. She would show up eventually, probably climbing through Santana's window when the Latina was getting ready for bed. It had happened more times than she could count and she was used to her best-friend's antics already. Besides, at that particular moment she was only worried about the blonde girl who was walking out from the showers, towel wrapped around her body as water dripped from her wet hair.

Yeah, Fabray was really hot.

"Did it feel good?" she asked and Quinn almost jumped twenty feet in the air as she found out she wasn't alone. Santana had her arms crossed against her chest, her eyes focused on Quinn as if sizing her and waiting for her next movement.

"That depends," Quinn stated with a smirk, moving to her locker, her movements slow and deliberated. Santana knew what she was doing; they had played that game countless times before. "Which time?"

"Listen Fabray," she hissed, slamming the door to the blonde's closet and pressing their faces together. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. Telling coach about my boob job was a fucking low blow, even for a manipulative bitch like you."

Quinn didn't seem phased, "Manipulative bitch, huh? Well, takes one to know one, S."

And then Santana lost it. Yeah, she was patient, but she was never one to talk too much, anyway. She had other ways to settle her differences with someone, especially if that someone was Quinn. Once again, there was more to their relationship than ever met the eyes of anyone. They worked well like that and Santana was sure that Quinn saw it coming the second she decided to pull that shit up on her.

Her hands found Quinn's towel as she pulled it off and let it drop to the floor, her body slamming against her friend's as she pushed the blonde Cheerio against the locker, wrapping her legs around her waist and slipping three fingers inside her without any preamble.

Quinn definitely saw that coming, if the wetness coating Santana's finger was any indication.

"I fucking hate when you try to act like you're the boss of me or something and you fucking know that, Q." Santana sneers, fingers thrusting deep inside the other girl who has her eyes fluttering close and her breath already uneven. She knows that Quinn's been on the edge ever since the little smurf left her and it's good to have someone doing this for her but Santana wants punishment. After all the blond did to her that day she's not about to scratch her itch and just act like it was a nice thing. Oh no, Quinn is going to pay.

"Fuck, S."

Quinn is squirming against her hand, trying to get some friction, but Santana is having none of it. This is her song and Quinn is going to dance in the fucking way she wants. She knows it's only a matter of time before her friend starts begging. Years of practice have told her that Quinn Fabray is no beggar, except when she is. And when she has three fingers shoved deep inside of her, well, let's just say she really likes to beg.

Unfortunately for her, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Quinn's head is rolled back, eyes pressed shut as Santana takes on her neck, biting every inch of skin her lips can find, not bothering to be nice. She wants to hurt Quinn, wants to hear the hisses mixing with the moans of pleasure coming from the blonde's mouth and she wants her to ache all over once this is over. Because this is not for pleasure, this is revenge. And she wants Quinn to remember what she did every time she looks at the marks Santana is leaving all over her body right now. Because she will be damned if she lets Quinn act the way she did again. It takes a bit of violence and lust but she knows how to tame the beast.

She knows that once she gets home she's going to have to take care of herself, but she's not worried about that. She thrives in the control and Quinn is a hot motherfucker, so it's no surprise that she gets the way she is. She has no romantic feelings for her whatsoever. In fact, she even wants to scoff at the fact because _that _would be a fucked up relationship. But she's talking about her body here and she would be a fucking freak if she didn't respond to the way Quinn is panting against her, the way her chest arches against her lips and the way she tries her hardest to keep from moaning too loud but fails miserably.

When Quinn's hand move to her mouth, Santana shakes her head before moving to pin them against the blonde's head. "No fucking way, Blondie. I wanna hear you scream."

And scream Quinn does.

Santana is experienced at this. A lot, to be honest. So she knows how to touch the other girl, know exactly how to curl her fingers inside her in a way that she hits that fucking amazing spot every single time her fingers enter Quinn. She knows what she's doing and she's well aware that Quinn is not gonna last long. Girl has been handling herself for the half of the summer and she knows it's good to have someone else's fingers inside her, though she knows that Quinn would prefer another brunette with her right now. It's a bit baffling in Santana's mind – that someone would prefer Berry over her – but it's not something she has to worry at the moment because she has a purpose and she honestly couldn't care less about who Quinn is picturing at that moment.

She feels Quinn's breath catching in her throat and she knows that the blonde is close, her inner walls starting to tighten against Santana's finger in a way that it makes them hurt a little but it's not really a bad feeling. She knows the telltales of Quinn's orgasm – the louder moans, the failed attempts at moving against her fingers and the way her eyes press shut so tight before they snap open again as her orgasm takes over her.

Only this time, they snap open for another reason.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Quinn exclaims, hazel eyes dark as she watches Santana clean up her fingers on the discarded towel and send her a inquiring expression. Quinn is not buying it. "You cannot leave me like that, Lopez. Fucking finish what you started!"

Santana smirks, moving closer to Quinn again and brushing their lips together, "Finish it yourself, Fabray."

And then she backs away, walking to the door with a satisfied smirk in her face and an ache in the middle of her legs, reminding herself to call Brittany as soon as she gets home.

When she reaches the door, she turns to find Quinn slumped against the lockers, a shocked expression on her face that's slowly but surely turning to anger. Santana prides herself in being able to frustrate her friend so much because that's what Quinn fucking deserved after what she did to her.

"I know you're all pissed because Berry left you," she says, a sharp expression on her face, "But don't you think for a second that you can fuck me over and get away with it. So grow a fucking backbone and go after your little smurf, use a showerhead, I don't fucking care, but get your shit together and don't mess with me. Next time you might not get so lucky."

"I fucking hate you, Santana." Quinn hisses, but Santana only shrugs, the smirk still in place.

"See you around, Q."

And she leaves the locker room before her friend can say anything else. She hears the loud smack of something against the iron lockers which only makes her grin widen as she gets into her car and grabs her phone to text Brittany. Her day had been fucking tiring but that hadn't been a bad end to it. Yeah, she knew Quinn would probably be pissed at her for leaving her all hot and bothered like that, but she would get over it. Their relationship considered, it probably wouldn't be the last time something like that would happen. But Santana would be damned if she let someone act like that with her and still get away with it. Even if that someone was her best friend.


End file.
